


kiss me like i'm dying

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Smug Jug ahead, The briefest hint of knifeplay, Vaginal Fingering, an au without murder, basically porn without plot, exploring the delights of the female body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: “That’s — that’s Polly’s,” Betty finally managed, though her cheeks had started to burn. She’d read it so many times that the spine of the book was creased and she prayed that he wouldn't pull it open to where she had left her bookmark —“Jughead!” she squeaked when the book fell open and he plucked up the folded index card she had used to mark her place.“Now, dear Elizabeth, why would you be getting so upset if this were Polly’s book?”





	kiss me like i'm dying

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello welcome. 
> 
> I've written a thing. It was very much inspired by a covinsky [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831072) I read a while back. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> This was beta'd by [@bugggghead](https://bugggghead.tumblr.com) who saved my life with helping me out with the editing in this and creating an amazing graphic for me and of course [@theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) who is my sounding board and encouragement in all things writing and polished this up with a big red bow.

 

It started out as innocent as any other Friday, Jughead would walk her home from school and they would traipse up to her room for a bit of light studying.

Typically, they would order a pizza, watch a movie, and make out until her mother opened the door, flicking on the lights with a reminder that she had to leave the door cracked.

But her mother wasn’t home.

No one was.

Her parents had left the day before for some sort of new age journalism convention that Betty hadn’t quite paid attention to the explanation for. Polly had dipped when school let out, simply texting a string of emojis that somehow involved her boyfriend — or vegetables. Betty wasn't quite sure.

It wasn't that they’d never been alone before, quite contrary in fact. Most of the time, FP wasn’t around the Jones home, but they often spent their time at the Cooper house regardless.

Since his mother had taken off, Jughead frequently stayed out and away from Sunnyside Trailer Park. He and his father didn't get along when FP drank and the days encompassed by bottles outnumbered the sober ones.

So the pair took advantage of the peaceful, empty house, raiding the fridge and cabinets for appropriate snacks.

Jughead’s arms were full as they trudged up the stairs. “I’m a growing boy, Betts,” he said, with that stupid, crooked grin that had her sighing and giving in to him every time he pulled it out.

They stretched themselves out on her bed with their books and snacks. He flopped perpendicularly across the foot of her bed as she tucked her back up against the headboard, ankles crossed over one another.

Her bare toes and legs were on display, drawing his eyes. Whenever she looked over her book, she caught him staring, head propped up with his hand, his gaze like a touch all the way up to the hem of her corduroy skirt, he’d press his face back down to bury his nose in _Wuthering Heights_.

Betty had her fun — crossing and uncrossing her ankles at various points, curling her toes, and stretching. His lip would twitch before he drug his gaze back down, clearing his throat and throwing a handful of Skittles in his mouth to focus on instead.

It wasn't like she was having an easy time either, Jughead had ditched the flannel and his thin, faded shirt — that she was fairly certain would soon disintegrate, he’d worn it so much — stretched so tightly across his shoulders and biceps that it looked like a second skin.

Her brow furrowed when the words started to blur together. She was concentrating so hard, but was utterly distracted by the breeze of his exhale tickling the skin of her ankle, or the swipe of his tongue over his thumb when he turned a page.

Betty’s eyes closed, head leaning back against the headboard with a disgruntled sigh. She’d read the same page five times in a row.

“Maybe we should take a break?” he offered quietly, picking up on her frustration.

She thought about the studying time she’d already lost to distraction. A break was not ideal, but his weight was already leaving the end of the bed. Frowning, she pushed the book off her lap, not caring if she lost her place. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

When she opened them again, Jughead was curiously peering through the window blinds. “Archie get a new punching bag?”

Her nose wrinkled and she scooted down the bed until she could sink her head into her pillow. “How would I know if his punching bag was new?”

“Uh, because he didn't have one before?”

“I don't have any reason to pay attention to Archie, Jug.”

He shuffled uneasily, rubbing a socked foot against her plush pink carpet as he leaned against the wall. “Not even when he’s working out next door?”

Shaking her head, she brought her hands up and pulled the tie from her ponytail. The pressure was starting to ache. “Nope.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he mused with an edge of disbelief that had her eyes rolling.

There was a period of silence as she tangled her hands in her hair and fanned it out on the pillow to comb through with her fingers before he spoke again.

“Because it _seems_ like you like guys with rippling ab muscles if the cover of this book is anything to go by.”

Her stomach dropped unpleasantly as she bolted up, catching him with the romance novel (the kind decidedly _not_ for young adults, not quite _Fifty Shades_ but the _might as well be_ kind) she’d been reading the night before, neatly clutched in one hand as he examined the cover — a man with bulging muscles and no shirt, holding a scantily clad woman in a tight embrace.

“That’s — that’s Polly’s,” Betty finally managed, though her cheeks had started to burn. She’d read it so many times that the spine of the book was creased and she prayed that he wouldn't pull it open to where she had left her bookmark —

“Jughead!” she squeaked when the book fell open and he plucked up the folded index card she had used to mark her place.

His smirk was infuriating and entirely too hot for this situation.

“Now, dear Elizabeth, why would you be getting so upset if this were Polly’s book?” He stepped closer to the bed, and she scrambled to her knees to reach out for it.

He held it out of her depth as she curved her arms around him trying to get it back.

After a minute of stuffing her face into his shoulder, trying to dig her chin into him as a weapon, she huffed, “ _Fine_. It’s mine. It’s just embarrassing — don't — don't read anything—”

 _Shouldn't have said that_ , she thought weakly as his eyebrows rose with delight. _Should_ not _have said that._

He immediately turned to the pages with intent. Betty groaned and gave up, falling back against the bed with her hands clamped over her face.

“ _The press of his throbbing manhood against her had her burning with desire, core aching so desperately she grew dizzy and wanton. She would have crumpled had his strong arms not been holding her upright, clutching her tightly against his naked body. His low growl vibrated in her ear, causing her nipples to perk tautly in response. He ran his hands down her supple curves until his fingers found the fabric of her dress, hiking it up and revealing her honey pot to his hungry gaze. Moaning, she flooded with desire, center dripping with sweet nectar as he brought the length of himself up to thrust into her_ — you have got to be _kidding_ me.”

She’d turned over and pressed her face against the duvet, screaming silently in a feeble attempt to ease the pulse pounding in her ears.

Jughead’s laugh was clear as day over the solid thump of her heart. “How can you read this? It’s so _bad_.”

Her face was definitely the color of the Blossom’s hair, if the heat radiating from her cheeks was any indication, and in that moment she couldn't figure out whether she was angry, humiliated, or a mix of the two.

“I _like_ it.” She turned her face to the side so her words weren't muffled as she glared over her shoulder, hands clenched into fists against the bed. “I’m sure the low budget porn you watch is just as classy, Jug. I _said_ not to read it — that’s an invasion of my _privacy_ , and then you make _fun_ of it?” Her throat started to feel thick, the way it always did when she tried not to cry. Her eyes closed tightly, the dread and swirl of anxiety brewing within.

“Betts—” he started with a sigh, and she could feel his fingers curl around her ankle, tugging gently. “Betty — I’m sorry.”

Turning over onto her back, she sat up and wiggled her ankle back from his fingers. He tucked the book safely back in its place on her window seat and sat on the edge of the bed, looking frustratingly attractive even when contrite.

Betty had to look away from the pull of his intense gaze, lest he brought out the look she couldn't resist. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared down at her folded legs and the bruise on the side of her knee which had appeared, origination unknown.

“Just… just don't say it’s _bad_. It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

“Well—” he leaned forward, sneaking his fingers under her jaw then turning her head back to him— “I wasn't trying to make fun of you. I’m sorry.”

The look on his face was sincere so she let her arms drop back to her lap to tug on the hem of her skirt.

“I know I said it was bad — I didn't mean you were bad for reading it. Or even that the type of book is bad. Statistically, romance novels make nearly double the next most popular genre, which, mind you — is crime.”

She blinked at him, shaking her head a little as his fingers fell from her chin. “Then what was—”

“—It just seemed like bad sex.”

Jughead said it with all the confidence of someone who _knew_ what good sex was like and her jaw dropped.

“And what exactly would you know about _good_ sex?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“I don't watch low budget porn — well, sometimes,” he said almost sheepishly before continuing, “but I watch for the instructional aspect. They happen to be pornographic in nature, but that tends to help when you’re trying to learn how to go down on a girl.”

She could not have been more shocked — unless maybe lightning struck her down in that very moment.

“Jughead Jones, just _what_ are you—” the words caught in her throat as realization dawned on her.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. Then, that stupid, boyish smirk that always drew her focus to his mouth crept across his lips and she sucked in a breath.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” he said casually, leaning onto his side and elbow.

Suddenly, the room felt way too hot and she was much too aware of exactly how alone they were.

Betty still wasn't over the look he’d had on his face. She thought the book was _good_ . What if when _they_ had sex she was bad at it, then? What if she didn’t actually know as much as she thought she did? The idea churned and churned in her stomach until the words were spilling from her lips. “What about it was bad?”

He seemed surprised she asked, but Betty was stubborn and possessed the innate urge to know absolutely everything, so he really shouldn't have been.

“Well, for starters, _honey pot_ is a terrible euphemism.”

“All the names for it in those books kind of are,” she murmured back.

His eyes rolled and he stood up from the bed, motioning for her to lay on her side. In the second before she eagerly complied, a flash of panic ran through her chest. All her feelings swarmed into a ball of nerves that settled in her stomach when Jughead slid onto the bed and curved himself closely behind her. His presence calmed and made her more nervous — all at the same time.

One of his arms draped over her hip and his fingers curled against the bone. His thumb slipped between the space of her skirt and blouse, pad barely brushing the skin. He leaned in close to her ear, warm breath fanning across her neck as he moved her hair away.

“What about the word pussy?”

At the drop in his tone, a shudder rolled through her and she sucked her lip between her teeth. She nodded her head ever so slightly. “I guess — that’s okay.”

A smile pressed into the skin of her neck, sending out a little electric shock that had her eyes widening. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands, her legs, her mouth—

“Do you really think her nipples would get hard just from him growling at her?”

Betty had half a mind to say _try it and find out_ , but the words felt like peanut butter sticking in her throat and she gave a little shrug, leaning into the crook of her elbow. She was thankful he couldn't see her face right now.

His thumb slid in a circle against her stomach, dipping under the hem of her skirt as he spoke. “He barely even touched her and she’s just — ready to go? He didn't ask her if she even wanted to, let alone if she was ready.” His thumb paused and his breath fanned across her neck in stuttered puffs. “If it were me—” his thumb stopped, hovering so closely over her skin that it nearly felt like a shadow.

“Anyway, it just seemed like it could be a lot better.”

His thumb resumed, rubbing slow circles as his nose nuzzled the side of her neck.

Her thoughts couldn't help but circle back to the words he’d said just moments before. “What about if it were you?” she asked, hoping it didn't sound like she’d just been chewing on gravel.

Jughead’s chin rested on her shoulder and she glanced back to find his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing before releasing it and drawing her attention. “If it were me, well... I’d make sure she was really turned on first. It’s all about the journey.”

“How?”

He ducked his head in against her neck, lips warm and open-mouthed as he groaned. “You want me to tell you?”

_She wanted it so badly._

“Yes,” she breathed.

She could feel his muscles contracting as he sucked in a breath against her skin. He leaned away before exhaling and detaching himself. She almost whined, but then he spoke.

“Scoot up to the pillows.”

Turning over, Betty eagerly scrambled backward, sitting up against the headboard with her legs straightened out toward him. She was nearly out of breath by the time she smoothed her hair down and tugged on the hem of her skirt. Looking up, she saw that he was watching her, waiting until she settled before swinging a leg over both of hers. Then he was hovering over her, his knees bracketing her thighs as she pressed them together.

Her mouth went dry when Jughead leaned in close, his hands circling her wrists before holding them down by her sides.

 _Good_ , she thought, because she was very tempted to run her palms and fingers across the denim that stretched tight on his thighs.

Glancing up to his face, she saw a familiar dark turn to his gaze. The same one that always had her losing track of time, forever wishing she had more _._

“First,” he started softly, “I’d tell her how beautiful she was — how good she’s being for me.” He tugged her arms above her head and her back bowed complacently as he dipped down to slowly press against her. Nose in her hair and lips at her throat, he placed a kiss to the underside of her jaw before trailing back to her ear. Between the nip of his teeth and the fan of warm breath against skin, her eyes fluttered closed. Heat flooded her form, warming her entire body and threatening to set it on fire.

“Really?” No matter the length of their time together, she didn’t think she would ever tire of basking in his praise.

His head dipped in a nod against her neck then his teeth moved down from her ear. “Yes. Perfect,” he whispered.

The word thrummed against her skin, seeping through to her bones before his teeth scraped the sensitive skin and her mouth dropped open.When she felt the press of his thumb against the pulse jumping in her wrist, she couldn’t help but clench her legs together. It was like she was sinking into the bed, but he was pulling her up at the same time. His teeth grazed her collarbone, lips drawing her upward as she sought the warmth of his mouth. Her head was swimming in the clouds, the chill of his breath blowing across the fresh bruise she would surely find in the mirror later.

“Then,” he let go of her wrists and tapped them with a single finger before drawing it down the underside of her bare arm. She’d never been more glad to be free of her typical cardigan as goosebumps rose in his wake. “I’d kiss her.”

His fingers ran up along the curve of her shoulder and then tipped her jaw up — it felt so familiar, yet entirely new as he leaned down to cover her lips with his own.

Every kiss they shared was as enticing and enjoyable as the first time. But by now, Betty was well acquainted with the ache that settled in her belly and burned white hot.

“Here,” Jughead murmured against her, licking at the seam of her lips and pulling away to make his way down her throat. “And here,” his fingers pulled at the collar of her sleeveless blouse and his lips followed, lingering at the valley between her breasts.

It tickled there, his kisses dropping on to her skin like feathers trailing along the tops of her breasts where the fabric was bending to his will. He cupped the underside of one in his palm for only a moment, before leaning back and kneeling above her.

His thumb rubbed at the button, eyes flickering up to hers. “He barely touched her in the book, but I wouldn't just skip right to — you know,” he shrugged a shoulder and she found the hint of pink dusting the apple of his cheeks endearing. “I’d pay attention to every part of her. Especially her tits.”

Despite wanting to laugh at the word, she was beginning to wiggle underneath him, antsy from lying still with her arms above her head. They’d done this before — not _exactly_ this, but variations, and it always left her wanting more.

 

_(They were in The Blue and Gold office, the lights off and breathing heavily against each other._

_Jughead’s hand slid across the gap of skin between her cheer skirt and top, fingers inching up and up before falling back down and repeating the process._

_She’d had enough of him dancing around and despite knowing that yes, it was after school and about 75% of the student body wasn't around, there was still a lingering percentage at varying practices and clubs. That fact was pushed to the back of her mind as she leaned away enough to cross her arms at her hips and bring the starchy top over her head with a huff._

_He looked like a fish, staring at her with pupils already dilated from the dark and lips that parted with a gasping groan. “Holy shit, Betty—”)_

 

“Show me.” Bringing her hands down to cover his, Betty popped the first button open, and then the next before he took over once more.

Once her shirt was unbuttoned, he untied the fabric bow at her waist and let the fabric fall open. His eyes appraised her, fingers immediately drawn to the curve of her waist where he fitted his palms flat against her flesh.

As his fingertips toyed with the band of the bra she was wearing, he asked, “Is this new?” His fingers inched up her sides until he cupped a hand around each breast.

Her head fell back against the pillow in a soft sigh, hands fisting in the duvet by his legs. “Bought it on a trip with Veronica — well, she did. Wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer,” she sighed, barely able to breathe, let alone form full sentences.

His thumbs brushed over the dark red embroidered lace flowers, the smoky black underneath sheer. She shivered as he circled her nipples, half hard from his kisses but turning to stiff peaks under the pressure from the pads of his fingers.

“Remind me to thank her.”

Her eyes rolled upwards and threatened to stick to the undersides of her eyelids from the feeling of his mouth covering her breast with warm, wet lips. His tongue was hot and insistent as he lapped at her, teeth catching on her nipple and tugging ever so slightly through the flimsy fabric.

Betty’s hands flew to his shoulders to grab a hold of _anything_ as her back arched, chasing his lips as he peppered kisses and licks through the barely-there lace.

He blew across the wet fabric and shivers raked down her spine, coiling low in her belly at the sensation. With her thighs tightly clenched together, she squirmed as his fingers edged the cups of lace down before covering her bare breasts with both hands. He kneaded, pulling a soft sigh from her lips.

“I’d kiss and lick until she was begging for more.”

The timbre of his voice startled her into opening her eyes, though she wasn’t quite sure when she’d closed them to begin with. Her fingers dug in against his shoulders, before sliding up to his neck to grip the short hairs there.

She hummed, catching his gaze before he leaned down to bite and suck across her sternum. “Oh yeah?”

Jughead grinned, fingers brushing the juts of her ribs and dancing across the fullness of her bust as his lips hovered over her nipple, tongue flicking out to tease. “Yeah. Until she was making those breathy little sounds… just like the ones you're making now.”

Her cheeks burned hotly, a mewl escaping her throat unconsciously as she tugged him closer by the grip in his hair.

“And then… what would you do? Once she begged?”

“Oh, I don't know… that didn't sound very convincing.”

Tugging on the strands tucked between her fingers, she groaned, “Please, Jug.”

A chuckle of breath against her skin had her puckering into goosebumps. “That’s a little better, at least.” He settled back onto his heels again and her hands fell back to the bed as he cupped the fullness of her breasts before dropping down to flatten around her ribcage. His fingers inched beneath her back, fumbling for the clasp of her bra.

Betty arched underneath him, providing more space for him to unlatch the hooks that he’d mastered the first day their hands had wandered beneath each other's shirts.

He tossed her bra and blouse over the edge of the bed then quickly spread his hands back against her sides, nearly spanning the entirety of her waist. She felt so erotic and delicate under his touch.

“I’d ask if her underwear matched her bra, because of course, I’d be curious.”

His smirk had her biting her lip, watching as his eyes dropped from her chest to linger at the top button of her skirt. His fingers fluttered down the length of her sides before he hooked them into the waistband and tugged on it teasingly.

It gaped from her skin and she caught a glimpse of the lace before he let go. “Well, maybe you should find out.”

His eyebrows rose, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “I’m tempted to rip this skirt off, make these buttons fly across the room. But I like the way your legs and ass look in it too much to do that.” Jughead thumb rolled over the top button, popping it open.

She was half tempted to tell him she would just buy another one.

Her hands fisted in the duvet as his fingers drug lower, going down the line of her skirt and undoing the silver buttons with nimble fingers. He worked slowly — if she had been holding her breath, she would’ve been blue in the face by now.

As Jughead reached the last button, he flipped the fabric open and his pupils widened, darkening. He drank her in, eyes lingering over every dip and curve, soaking up the sight in front of him like a fine bottle of wine he wanted to drain.

“Fuck,” he rasped, hands sliding over her hips and splaying against the dark red lace that left little to the imagination. “I _like_ these, Betty.”

A smile twisted on her lips, head falling back against the pillow as she giggled. “I would hope so. That was the point.”

He pulled on the edges of her skirt and she lifted her hips in response so it could join the rest of her discarded clothes on the floor. Despite the fact that he was hovering over her, still completely dressed, she had little time to think about her modesty or the fact that this was the most of her skin he’d ever even seen at once — everything below the waist was new territory besides some grinding and getting worked up with their shirts off — because, in that instant, she heard a click. She lifted her head a little, realizing Jughead had pulled out his pocket knife and flipped out the blade.

Before she could sputter a protest, he’d slipped the point of the blade under the lace at her hip and sliced upward. The flimsy material tore with little resistance and he repeated the motion on the other side with an infuriating smirk.

“ _Jughead Jones_ ,” she growled, hands curling into fists. Even though that was the hottest fucking thing she’d witnessed, um, _ever_ , those cost more than most of her jeans. She couldn't help but squeeze her legs tighter together underneath him.

“Just get Veronica to buy you a new pair. Can't have a mismatched set, you know.”

“She's going to ask _why_.”

His eyebrow lifted in a lazy gesture of daring. “Then tell her.”

“Juggie,” she whined, hitting her fists against the duvet childishly. “I liked those.”

“Well, I like you better without them…” He tugged on the scrap of ruined lace and she lifted so he could toss it away.

Cheeks burning as he stared down at her, Betty clenched the duvet between her fingers as he trailed the tip of the knife over the soft skin of her belly, leading downward. The lightest pressure from the blade as he drew a line down her hip had her breath catching in her chest.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

Her eyes jumped up to his face and she sank into the bed as he loomed over her, bringing his face down as the knife hit the other side of the bed. Their lips hovered a hair’s breadth apart as his fingers found more bare skin, settling on her thighs and making her belly clench tightly as he slowly gravitated upward.

“What — what would you, um, do next?” She could hardly get the words out without choking.

His nose nudged hers, lips barely brushing together before his breath fanned across her neck as he moved to whisper in her ear. “I’d ask for permission to touch her. To make sure that she really wanted this.”

“Yes. Please.” Her eyes closed as his teeth nibbled down her throat.

“I want you to say the words, Betty.”

She could barely think with his lips on her collarbone and his hands dangerously close to where she wanted him the most. “Touch me.”

His tongue swiped at the divot of her throat. “Where?”

There was a frustration bubbling in her chest, her skin searing from the flame of his touch as they danced around each other. Her fingers itched to thread through his hair and just shove his head between her legs. There was something so visceral about speaking the words aloud, about voicing what she really wanted from him.

Though, lessons from Veronica would prove that she had to be vocal in matters such as this in more ways than one.

Swallowing down the sticky, dryness in her mouth, she clamped a hand around Jughead’s wrist. “I want you to touch me,” she paused and sucked in a breath, “I want your fingers in my pussy. _Please_.”

Betty slid his hand the rest of the way up her inner thigh and his fingers found their way between her legs. She sighed in relief when he began to trail them up and down her slit.

“You’re doing so good. But you know…” He combed through the neatly trimmed hair, barely parting her folds with his fingers. “I’d do more than just put my fingers inside you. Don't you want me to touch your clit, baby?”

She gripped the sheets, hips tilting up to meet his questing hand as he ran his index and middle finger up to circle the sensitive bud in question. Her chest heaved a breath, body jumping under his touch and feeling both rigid and boneless all at once. His fingers already felt a million times better than her own and he had barely done anything.

“Yes, that — that — I very much want.” The words didn't even sound as jumbled coming out of her mouth as they did in her brain, which was a miracle in and of itself.

Jughead looked down at her, thumb finding the rest of his fingers and gathering wetness before he was pushing the pad against her clit and making her bite her tongue, head dropping back against the pillow.

It was too _much_ . She groaned, hands flying up to grip at his forearms, feeling like she might just jump out of her skin. “Ah — ah, ease up just — just _a bit_ ,” Betty gasped.

His fingers stilled, the blush returning high on his cheeks as he adjusted the pressure. This time, his touch was lighter than before and oh so divine. “Like that?”

“Y— _es._ ” Her endorphins spiked to new heights as he drew a moan from her throat, hips chasing the movement of his hand as he found a rhythm that matched the call in her blood.

He circled her clit with wet fingers until her back arched upwards and she was digging her nails into his arm.

She didn't even have to look at him to know he was grinning.

Slowing down, he slid his fingers through her folds and dipped one into her pussy teasingly.  “Is this okay?” He hummed, pecking a kiss to her throat that she barely registered, too busy trying to figure out a way to get him to _do more_.

“Yes. So good. Really good. Use — use two fingers.”

He pumped the single digit a few more times before he obliged, easily sliding his middle finger inside of her.

“Fuck,” she groaned, eyes falling shut and hips rocking against his hand. Her legs instinctively tried to part, wanting to draw his fingers in deeper, but they were prohibited by his own legs bracketing her thighs. A whine left her throat, nails scratching down his arm, side, anywhere she could reach. “I need more. Please, give me more.”

“What about my mouth? I’d really like to bury my head between your thighs, eat you out until you’re shaking all around me.”

Surely, she was dying. Was it possible to just spontaneously combust?

Seriously. Where had her boyfriend learned to talk like that? Not that she was _complaining_ , but—

“I want you to come on my tongue, baby.”

Betty could do little more than nod, mouth dry as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. Her skin felt prickly and tingly, stomach clenching with unmistakable _need_ . His fingers were on her, inside her, and it was already enough — she wasn't sure if she was going to survive anything _more_.

He curled his fingers inside her, palm grinding down against her clit with a pressure that had her back bowing against the sheets.

She was too hot, like she was burning up. Her skin, her lungs — she took a breath that calmed the fire, pulling on the sides of his shirt as his fingers worked her up in a quarter of the time it took herself to do the same.

Jughead leaned forward to brush her trembling lips with his. “Do you like me talking to you like that?”

The words poured from her lips like an open dam, “God, _yes_. You have such a dirty mouth. I love it.”

“Good, because I’m not stopping anytime soon. You’ve let loose a beast, Betts.”

His accompanying low growl in her ear sent a surge of heat licking down her spine and she swore that she grew even wetter on his fingers. And if possible, she grew bolder herself.

“Wanna wrap my legs around your neck, Juggie.”

He kissed at her throat, fingers slowing to slide up to her clit and rub. “I’d take that offer any day of the week.” Leaning away from her, his attentions stilled to a slow halt, thumb rubbing upwards against her one last time before he wiped his hand across the back of his jeans.

Picking up one knee, he wedged it between her thighs. “Spread ‘em for me.” He swung his other leg in until he was nestled between her knees. Once he scooted backward a bit, he dropped to his elbows above her and planted a kiss at her sternum. He nosed his way down her chest, stopping at her belly button to kiss the brown freckle just above it.

There was only so much of his dark eyes watching her through long lashes that she could take. His bottom lip was swollen from laying kisses all over her skin and she ached to see it glistening with her wetness.

As he moved down her body, arms curving under her thighs, his breath blew across her hip bone. She had to suck in a shaky breath, feeling a wild combination of nervous, excited, and turned on beyond belief. Surely her entire body was flushed with heat, her skin felt like fire, aflame with burning desire.

Jughead raised her legs to hook over his shoulders, fingers curling around her hips and spreading her wider as he lowered his mouth to her pussy.

His hot breath already had her toes curling and she  took care not to dig her heels in against him. She had to look away, eyes turned up to the ceiling as she wondered how they could ever _stop_ after this - knowing she’d never want to.

They’d been traveling the path to intimacy at a fairly slow pace, but _this_ skipped several notches and there was no way they wouldn't be tempted to just go for home base. Her eyes closed, imagining her legs wrapped around his waist and his hips slotted against hers.

She’d felt his cock, hard in his jeans against her stomach and hip as he lowered himself down her body. She positively ached at the thought of him inside her, stretching her beyond either of their fingers.

“So pretty,” he said softly against her inner thigh, tongue darting out to lick upwards against her slick folds. “All pink and so fucking wet. Is this all for me, baby?”

Betty flattened her palms against the bed, fingers spreading and scratching as he pulled her closer. Her head rolled back, already overcome with the sensation of his mouth on her. It was nothing like his fingers — it was so, _so_ much better. She squeaked when his tongue flicked against her clit, hips flexing and bucking upwards.

“Yes,” she choked out, afraid of biting her own tongue. It felt too heavy in her mouth, in the way of the moans that were building in her throat, looking for escape.

His tongue flattened against her clit, licking upwards and curving around the bud in slow circles. A buzzing hum reverberated through her core. She clutched at the fabric beneath her, fingers  digging into the mattress as her back curved in response.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes snapped open, a gasp leaving her mouth as she tilted her chin to her chest. The tone he’d used was smooth as velvet, yet sharp and domineering — commanding her attention in an instant. She lifted up onto her elbows, just enough to meet his gaze.

The combination of his dark hair and eyes, olive skin bracketed by her fair thighs, and the sight of his tongue diving into her folds had her eyes threatening to roll back into her head again. But she shivered under his gaze, fingers itching to grab hold of his hair and push him farther between her legs.

“You taste so good, baby.” He ran his tongue along her clit, before edging down to tease her entrance, tongue dipping into her pussy and lapping at her wetness.

“You — uh, I think you — your studying paid off,” she finally managed, fighting the unmistakable urge to keep seeking, to keep rocking her hips for _more, more, more_. With her orgasm just around the corner, so close that she might just be able to reach out and grab it, she brought her eyes up to the ceiling.

Jughead smirked and she felt it against her folds with his tongue buried inside her. “I’m glad. It was for you, after all.” Licking upwards, he closed his lips around her clit, sucking gently.

Suddenly she gasped, her arms trembling from her hold on the duvet. When his tongue started working her in circles, she couldn’t stop her hips from canting forward for more. “Harder,” she gasped.

“Put your hands in my hair,” he murmured against her, tongue sliding across her clit with a firmer pressure that had her thighs clenching around his neck. “Ride my face, Betty. Take what you want.”

“Shit, _Juggie_.” Dropping back flat against the bed, she brought her knees up, tilting her hips to his mouth. Prying her hands from the bed, Betty brought them up to tangle in his thick hair, sinking her fingers in against his scalp and tugging him closer.

She rocked her hips toward his lips and tongue, pressing his face in closer with her hands and, in an instant, she was falling headlong into bliss. She spiraled, lost to  the pressure of his tongue, the bruising grip of his fingers on her hips, and the hum of his groan against her most sensitive parts — her chest heaved, breath stalling as her mind went blank. Her body froze, feeling heavy and weightless all at once as an unmistakable sense of pleasure washed over her. It rippled down her spine and scalp, fingers tingling as it spread through her limbs. Spasms rocked her hips against his tongue as he worked her through it, her fingers still twisting in his hair.

 _Holy fuck_.

She panted, catching her breath once she was able to form a coherent thought again.

Her legs felt like jelly when he lowered them down to the bed, hooking his arms over her thighs and leaning up on his elbows. When she looked down, he was wiping at his mouth and chin with the back of his arm, entirely too smug for his own good.

With a deep, sated sigh, Betty’s head fell back again and she tried to blink away the fuzz that had settled over her thoughts. Her eyes lingered over the glow-in-the-dark stars she’d stuck to her ceiling so long ago and she couldn’t help but smile.

Jughead was infinitely and inexplicably better than any romance novel, though she was loathed to admit that fact to him. He always basked in the glory of being right for a little too long for her liking, but _goddamn was he right_.

In the back of her mind, she knew her days of reading romance novels had inexplicably changed. This singular moment had raised the bar any book had ever set by leaps and bounds. There would be no more casual reading — instead, all she would be able to picture was this moment. With Jughead's dark hair buried between her thighs, righting every author’s wrongs.

 

  
  
  
_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'm [@lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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